Still Waters
by denise1
Summary: A series of vignettes/short fic set in Teal'c's point of view. There's no precise order to read them in, and more could be added if the idea strikes me
1. Perhaps One Day

Still Waters One

Perhaps One Day

by

Denise

"Th...that's the last world on the scroll master," the scribe stammered nervously.

"I want more slaves to choose from," Apophis declared, his eyes flaring in annoyance. He had yet to find a host he believed his mate would find pleasing, and he would not stop until he did.

"Yes my lord," the scribe said, reaching into his bag for the second scroll of worlds. He retrieved the item from his bag and started to unroll it. He felt his heart stop as he realized what he was reading. In his haste to meet his lord at the Chaap'pai he had made a grievous error. He had brought the wrong scroll. This scroll was of the Ta'lak, the dead worlds. Worlds that were inaccessible or forbidden. He beckoned to his assistant and urgently instructed the boy to run back to the temple and fetch the correct scroll. As the boy disappeared down the path he wondered if Apophis would kill him for his error. Most likely. He sighed. If that was to be his fate...so be it. There was nothing he could do to change it.

"What is the delay?" The scribe started and looked to the Serpent Guard standing beside him.

"My lord. I have made an error. I have brought a scroll of inaccessible worlds rather than the second one as my lord Apophis requested. I have sent my assistant but I fear the delay will anger our lord Apophis," he whispered urgently, his eyes wide with fear, his hands shaking.

Teal'c turned and looked at his lord. Yes, Apophis would most likely kill the scribe for his mistake. Without a word, Teal'c grabbed the scroll and strode back to his gold armored 'god'.

"My Lord. Perhaps we should try these worlds," he suggested. "They have not been visited for quite some time. Maybe they possess the prize you seek," he said, hoping to amuse Apophis long enough to give the boy time to return. Teal'c liked the old scribe and would not wish to see the learned, gentle man perish in a fit of pique.

"An excellent idea Teal'c," Apophis said, his eyes glowing, this time in anticipation. "Bring the Tekmanktels," he ordered as he began to press the symbols on the device. One of his Jaffa hurried forward and handed Teal'c the small round scanning device. Since the reasons a world may be forbidden were often good reasons, it would be wise not to blindly walk through the Chaap'pai.

A little later Apophis was getting frustrated and Teal'c was getting worried. They had yet to successfully connect the Chaap'pai to another viable world. Teal'c feared if they boy did not return soon, the scribe would perish.

Suddenly Apophis pressed down on the center delmak and the Chaap'pai sprang into life.

"Send the Tekmanktel through," Apophis ordered. Teal'c stepped forward and casually lobbed the ball through the watery blue surface. Ma'tac handed Teal'c the scanner's receiver and stepped back to his place in the ranks. Teal'c studied the readings and stepped over to his 'god'.

"My lord. The Tekmanktel shows a breathable atmosphere and this..." he said, holding out the device. He saw a small, satisfied smile crease Apophis' features as the man read the signs that signaled a human presence.

"Excellent. We shall go at once," Apophis ordered. His Jaffa immediately stepped forward and assembled in front of the glowing circle. "I shall claim this world in the name of Apophis. Perhaps we shall find Amaunet an acceptable host there," he said as he closed his helmet and followed Teal'c through the Chaap'pai.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Teal'c felt an odd surface beneath his feet as he stepped through to the other side. Odd, the path leading to the Chaap'pai was made of metal. The chamber was large and gray. Compared to the Goa'uld surroundings he was used to he would call it barren. He found it oddly pleasing. He immediately restrained the female, wresting what had to be a weapon out of her grasp. The weapon was strange. It seemed far more advanced than those he was used to, yet still primitive. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before. He felt the female struggle and he turned his attention back to her, letting the weapon drop carelessly to the ground.

She was attired similarly to the men, perhaps she was a warrior? No matter. Warrior, slave or queen, she was Apophis' property now.

He heard a thunk as Apophis joined him, followed immediately by six Jaffa.

Teal'c saw Apophis open his helmet, disappointment replacing the anticipation that had been on his face.

One female. No wealth. No riches. And no control for the Chaap'pai.

"Get your hands off me," she spat as Apophis pulled her closer, mentally gauging her worth.

"Let her go!" one of the men ordered. Perhaps he is her mate. That means nothing now. Apophis will take her. And the man will most likely die. He watched Apophis subdue the woman, using his weapon to prevent her body from responding though Teal'c knew the eyes still saw, the person still felt...they were simply rendered unable to respond.

"Kill them," Apophis ordered. The guards opened fire and Teal'c turned to protect the female from her companions' weapons. This would be a total waste if she died.

The fight was short and soon the barren gray room was littered with bodies, red human blood congealing on the floor. For all their advanced weapons, these humans fell easily.

"Move the circle," Apophis ordered as he stepped back to allow two of the four surviving Jaffa to turn the inner ring of the Chaap'pai.

"This world is a disappointment," Apophis complained. Teal'c said nothing as the Chaap'pai opened. "If he wishes to live, the scribe's son had better have returned," Apophis threatened.

"Yes my lord," Teal'c replied evenly. He hoped so also. He had hoped Apophis' anger would have abated by now. If the scribe's son had not returned, there would be nothing he could do to prevent the man's death. Teal'c turned his head as a noise reached his ears, sounding absurdly loud over the omnipresent hum of what must be machinery. "My lord. More soldiers."

Apophis nodded and motioned for his Jaffa to go through the Chaap'pai. As Apophis turned to leave, the doors slid open and a portly older man in a dark blue uniform strode into the room, flanked by more people clad like the bodies on the floor. Even without the differing clothing, Teal'c would have known the man was the leader. He held himself with the confidence only true leaders have.

A confidence Apophis lacked.

Teal'c saw his eyes scan the room and fix upon the woman in his grasp. "Hold your fire!" he ordered.

Teal'c saw him meet Apophis' gaze, anger flaring in his pale eyes. He saw the older man's jaw set as he realized he could do nothing to save the female without assuring her death.

In an instant, Teal'c knew Apophis had made an enemy.

Apophis' eyes flared as he recognized and accepted an adversary who refused to back down. His lord closed his helmet and left the world. Teal'c followed his master, dragging his victim, the last to leave as was his duty.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Put her with the others," Apophis ordered as Teal'c stepped through the Chaap'pai on Chulak. He handed over the stunned woman to another Jaffa to convey back to the temple. The scribe scurried forward. "My lord," he gasped out as he held out the missing scroll.

"Good," Apophis said, nearly tearing the precious scroll from the scribe's hands. "The time of the gathering draws near. We will waste no more time on Ta'lak," he declared.

As Teal'c waited, masking his disgust with the whole procedure behind a placid face, he thought back to the man in blue. 'There was a man with honor,' he thought. 'A commander I could be proud to serve under.'

Hearing the unmistakable roar of the Chaap'pai opening he turned, ready to follow his lord as he raided another world. 'Perhaps one day he could serve under such a man.'

XXXfinXXX


	2. Blue Skies

Still Waters Two:

Blue Skies

by

Denise

"We have to jump." I hear through the headset. I see my companions share glances. Jump?  What will jumping accomplish?

"Out of the plane?" Daniel Jackson asks, his voice touched with skeptical disbelief. I still don't understand. Even a Jaffa can not hope to survive a fall from many thousands of feet. I wonder if perhaps the oxygen in the airplane had become tainted.

A member of the crew hands me...something. I examine this strange contraption. It is...I have no frame of reference to this.  There is a large pack, vaguely similar to the ones we wear on our missions. But this one has just one large pocket which is full of ...something, not several small ones. And it is sealed.  It is residing among a tangle of straps. I think if I hold it just right it would nearly resemble the spider that resides in a corner of my quarters. But how this...spider helps me...us, survive jumping out of this fully functional airplane...

"I do not understand O'Neill." The man gives me a reassuring look.

"It's called a parachute." Yes O'Neill, you have said that. But how will this...thing keep me from dying.

"It slows your descent after you jump out of a plane," Major Carter explains as she tames the spider, wrapping and fastening its legs around her body in a dizzying number of places.

She shows none of the trepidation and dread I saw on her face earlier when O'Neill announced we would jump. A trepidation I share. I can detect no anti-gravity beam, no superior technology. How exactly is this limp spider supposed to permit me to jump?  Or more accurately, survive the sudden impact with the ground that will surely kill me? Am I supposed to land on my back and bounce on it?

"Don't worry about it. I've done it hundreds of times," O'Neill says. That does not make me feel better. I have had several Prim'ta, would you like to experience that O'Neill?

A few moments later the back of the airplane drops open, filling the belly of the craft with an ear-popping roar.  A maelstrom of icy cold wind sweeps through the compartment and the lack of clutter and presence of netting suddenly makes sense.

I  watch a candy bar wrapper of Daniel Jackson's come to life from its place on the metal floor where he had dropped it.

The wind I feel becomes a visible force as the crumpled bit of colorful plastic swirls sluggishly at first, then faster and faster as more wind forces its way in.  Two airmen walk past me, pushing a large pallet of supplies. Their passing disturbs the wrapper and it whirls to the middle of the floor and follows them, like a curious child will follow its parents, oblivious to any danger.

The men tether themselves and push the pallet out of the plane. The ramp now makes sense. It is a very efficient way to discharge items from the vehicle.

We all step forward, now just feet from...nothing. O'Neill stands at the edge, confidence in his stance.  I watch Dr. Markov,  then Major Carter leap from the plane.

They fall away, growing smaller and smaller until they are indistinguishable from the frozen, barren landscape below.

"It's easy. Just jump and pull this," O'Neill instructs, gesturing to a metal ring on my harness.

I look again over the lip of the floor and at the ground speeding by, so far below. That speck...that is a truck. It is no larger than my thumb nail. Not even a hundred larvae could help me survive this fall.

Can we not contact the Tok'ra, see if they have a tel'tak we may use and avail ourselves of it's descent pods. Perhaps the Asgard would be willing to help.

I look down again. The candy bar wrapper has become caught in a crevice in the floor. It flutters and flies away. Lost forever.

"This does not seem wise O'Neill." Perhaps the pilot needs aid.  Someone should contact General Hammond, inform him of our status.  Going into an unknown situation, someone should remain in reserve.

"I said it was easy, not wise," O'Neill yells. His words do not make me feel better. I look down again at the ground. It is covered with ice and snow. It will be very hard when I smash into it.

"This does not seem wise." I can not move. My feet refuse to step forward. Given a choice I would rather return to Chulak and work to uncover every Jaffa loyal to Apophis with my bare hands than jump.

I feel an unexpected pressure on my back as O'Neill pushes me out of the plane.

HATAKA!!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I fall through the air to my death. Vaguely I remember the hurried instructions and I stretch out my arms and legs, giving as much resistance to the rushing air as possible. I am grateful for the goggles and helmet as the air chills my exposed flesh. It  pushes back my lips and cheeks and I feel the skin flap. I want to scream but I can not. The wind has stolen all the moisture from my mouth.

My face is now numb. I feel a cold settling into my jaw that makes my teeth ache.

Facing downward I study the landscape, fascinated at the scenery before me. What looked like black stained cottonballs is revealed to be snow covered trees. That fine line amongst the trees is  a road. I am rushing through the air as if I were flying a death glider without the protection of a canopy.

I...the ring I must pull the ring. Fighting the wind and gravity, I force my right arm across my chest and pull the handle. The roar of the wind is supplanted by a rustling flapping sound as I am jerked upwards with a force equal to the Goa'uld shield I ran into on  P4X639.

The spider's straps cut into my flesh, most painfully around my hips.

When I wrapped the straps around my body the way to position them around my legs made little sense. It does now. If they were not there I would surely have slipped out of the harness. And they are wisely arranged in such a way as to prevent...injury to ones self

Now that my descent has been slowed from over a hundred miles an hour to a fraction of that I am struck by the silence. I can no longer hear the plane I left just moments ago.  The howl of the wind is a mere whisper caressing my cold face.  Even the frigid air feels warmer now that it is not speeding past me. I hear a tiny fluttering sound and I look up.

At first glance I think I am suspended by a cloud. The too tiny body of the spider has opened up to reveal a billowing white rectangular silken web.

There are two yellow cords dangling from the maze of thin ropes that connect the canopy to my harness. These must be the controls for this parachute.  I grasp them, feeling a measure of security as I am not longer hanging helpless, at the mercy of the wind. I pull down with my left arm and I swing to the left. Pulling down with my right arm swings me to the right. I draw it down harder and I spin in a dizzying spiral like one of Ry'ac's toys.

I feel a giddy feeling sweep over me as I work the controls back and forth, weaving through the sky. I am flying. I laugh out loud as I realize gravity is not my mistress, not right now. And, unlike my time on board the shuttle, I am not breathing filtered air, surrounded by machines and technology. I am...free.

I look down upon the panorama below me. Details are becoming clearer now. I can see the differing shades of green in the trees, a dull sparkle of weak sunlight glinting off the heavy drifts of snow dotted with an occasional dark specter of a rock or boulder.

I am with in a couple hundred feet of the ground and I take a quick glance to get my bearing on the location of our destination.

Then, impossibly fast, the trees which seemed so tiny and delicate just seconds before are now growing larger at a dizzying rate. It is as if gravity is punishing me for defying her as it reaches out and forcefully pulls me down. I instinctively bend my knees to lessen the impact and literally hit the ground running.

It takes me a few moments to remove the harness and get the parachute under control. I gather up an armful of the material. It seems miraculous to me that this bit of fabric is capable of letting a man fly.

I wrap the parachute into a ball and shove it under my arm. As I begin my hike to the rendezvous point I pause and look up. Spread out above me is the heavens of Earth. Heavens, that with the aid of a deceptively simple Tau'ri invention, I have walked.

I put my thoughts aside and begin my trek through the deep snow to the Russian Facility. I have a mission to complete.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I sit in the commissary of the SGC, my hands wrapped around a coffee cup. I am normally not fond of the bitter Tau'ri beverage but I find the cappuccino they have begun serving vaguely reminiscent of a Jaffa drink.

I take a sip and cradle the cup, taking comfort in the warmth. Siberia was a most desolate and cold place. Far colder than the mountains of Colorado.

O'Neill takes a seat beside me, not asking my permission. He does not need to.

"Fraiser said there were no after-effects of that water...stuff, at least that she could detect," he says in lieu of a meaningless greeting.

"That is correct. It wished me no harm, it merely desired to return to its home."

He grunts. "You...aah...you know Teal'c, about the plane..."

"Had we been on Chulak and you laid your hands on me such, I would have been well within my rights..."

"Not that whole dismembering thing..."

"The penalty for striking a First Prime is removal of the offending appendage and a life spent in bondage."

"You mean..."

"I would have had the option of having your hands cut off and you and your family would become my property." At my pronouncement he pales a bit and I indulge in a moment of enjoyment as his discomfort. The penalty I related is actually an ancient punishment for a person daring to assault a Goa'uld, but O'Neill does not know that.

"Ooh...well look Teal'c..."

"There is a ceremony for forgiveness," I say in a tone that suggests he should partake in this 'ceremony'.

He frowns and shrugs, no doubt envisioning one of the many ceremonies we have witnessed over the years. The kind that usually consists of humorous costumes and odd food. "OK. If it's that important to you...what do I need to do?" His voice is resigned, full of dread.

"I wish to jump from an airplane again."

O'Neill cocks his head and raises his eyebrows. "Ex-cuse me?"

"I wish to jump from an airplane again. You will take me," I state.

O'Neill grins. "That's what I have to do to make it up to you for pushing you from a plane?...I have to arrange for you to do it again?"

"Yes."

"Look, Teal'c...I'm not sure if..."

"It is wise?"

"Actually I was thinking of easy. I mean I can't just pop over to Peterson, commandeer a C-130 just so you can jump. There's flight plans, restricted airspace, permits..." He pauses and I give him a look. "And I have a few favors I can call in. I'll see what I can do," he relents.

I incline my head as he gets to his feet and leaves the commissary.

Alone again, I take another sip of my cooling cappuccino and smile inwardly. I will jump from an airplane again. And this  time, O'Neill will be in front of me.

XXXfinXXX


	3. Barefoot Thoughts

  Still Waters Three:

Barefoot Thoughts

By

Denise

Noting the relaxed countenance and continued silence of his companion, Teal'c carefully reeled in his fishing line. He stepped off the dock and propped the pole against the cabin wall. He now understood Major Carter's continued resistance to joining O'Neill in Minnesota. The cabin certainly was adequate shelter, but it had few amenities.  And while he knew Major Carter was more than willing to 'rough it' when the situation warranted, as they had on P4X234, he also knew she enjoyed the creature comforts of hot running water and electricity. Perhaps if O'Neill ever suggested a vacation in a place resembling the planet  'where the beaches go on forever' he would find her more receptive.

Then again, it would take something very enticing to draw her away from her latest project. He was rather dubious about the safety of the motorcycle, but he hoped she would permit him to ride upon it when it was fully operational. He had ridden O'Neill's bicycle during one of the time loops and had enjoyed the experience. A vehicle capable of attaining a greater velocity would be even more pleasurable.

He walked away from the cabin, pausing as he saw the battery-less cellular phone lying discarded in the grass where O'Neill had tossed it in his fit of pique.

He certainly understood the man's desire to be left alone, but he also knew they had responsibilities that could not be shirked. He searched for and found the battery to the device, barely reigning in his frustration as he was again assailed by the incredibly annoying insects Minnesota seemed so full of. They did not seem to plague O'Neill as they had him. Perhaps they were ancient creatures of Goa'uld design, genetically engineered to torment Jaffa.

Replacing the battery and insuring the phone was still operational; he sat it carefully upon the window ledge and made his way away from the lake and towards the trees.

He still did not fully comprehend O'Neill's fascination with Minnesota. For a man who perpetually complained about the continued presence of trees on the planets they visited, he seemed incredibly fond of a place over run by them.

The stand of trees thinned and he soon found himself in a sun dappled clearing. There was a charred skeleton of an ancient tree midway across the grassy meadow, most likely a victim of a lightning strike.

That was one of the things he liked about Earth, the varied weather. The climate of Chulak was far too cold to permit such storms to develop often. There were many days when he made his way to the surface to observe the afternoon thunderstorms that were a part of Colorado's climate. He found the untamed power and majesty of Mother Nature most appealing.

In his quarters more than 20 stories underground, he had at first, been oblivious to changes in the weather. His only clue to what was going on outside was noting the apparel of the arriving personnel. General Hammond wore a long beige overcoat when it rained. Lieutenant Simmons would wear his red down parka when the temperature dropped below 30 degrees Fahrenheit. Doctor Fraiser possessed a pair of shiny black galoshes to protect her feet whenever precipitation of any kind made her normal footwear inappropriate. He made a note to ask Major Carter why many of the females among the Tau'ri wore footwear that appeared rather uncomfortable and impractical. And why none of the male personnel wore what they called high heels. He noticed the act of balancing on the heels forced the calf muscles into prominence. Given the human male's preference for displaying their muscles, he wondered why they did not like to display their legs as the females did.

Teal'c strode across the grass, seated himself on the ground, leaning back against the fallen tree trunk and took off his shoes.  He turned his face to the sun, brought up his knees and curled his bare toes into the grass. He smiled and closed his eyes as he remembered the last time he had been barefoot in the grass.  It had been before his first Prim'ta, before his father's murder. 

During his last summer of innocence.

He relaxed, letting the peace of the meadow flow over him. He really should enter Kel no Reem and heal the itchy mosquito bites. But he did not. Right now he wanted to ignore Junior. Ignore that he was a Jaffa, a victim of centuries of physical manipulation by the Goa'uld. Ignore that he was a warrior, trained in uncounted ways to kill a person. A man capable of planning strategies and tactics that had caused the downfall of countless worlds.

He wanted to pretend he was human.

There were times when he longed to be able to leave the SGC without being accompanied by one of his teammates. He wanted to not always have to wear a hat to conceal his tattoo whenever he was in public. He often wished he understood more of the humans' speech so he did not feel as though they were laughing at his ignorance. Never a talkative person in the first place, in the last few years he had found himself standing silent, content to merely observe to avoid saying something inappropriate. Something funny.

Oh no one ever seemed to laugh cruelly, especially the other members of SG-1, but they still laughed just the same.

At times they seemed to have no idea how difficult it was to fully understand all the nuances of a culture. Perhaps Daniel Jackson did have some idea, but the others did not realize all they took for granted.

He had cursed his difference so many times in the past four years.

Had it not been for him being a Jaffa, he and O'Neill would not have been cast into the labyrinth and hunted by the Unas.

During the outbreak of the Broca Virus, he had faced being sealed in the mountain, the only normal person amongst hundreds of savages.

His dark past had endangered his whole team on Cartago.  He still felt he had to be constantly on his guard against those people at Area 51 who saw him more as a test subject than a man. He knew General Hammond would do everything within his power to protect him, but he still felt vulnerable. The aged general would not be in command of the SGC forever.  He still had nightmares of waking up strapped to a table, a helpless victim of someone's experiments, like he had been during the invasion of the aliens from P3X118.

His being a Jaffa was why Hathor had left him for dead and unable to aid his friends during their imprisonment.

He had not been able to help them again as they were tortured on Netu…because he had not been permitted to be with them, his very existence endangering them.

He had not been allowed to participate in Anise's experiment with the armbands. Just as he had not been permitted to see Quetzacoatl.

For most people it seemed just being different, just being a Jaffa, was enough to make him less than human.

An automatic enemy. Someone not worthy of trust.

He knew his size intimidated some. It was a simple sense of self-preservation, yet it still hurt when people looked at him with fear in their eyes. When they seemed afraid to talk to him. When they would not sit at the same table as him in the commissary.

It would hurt when a group of new personnel would stop talking when he entered a room because they were talking about him, about 'the alien'.

Little did they know his hearing was far better than theirs was. He heard them whispering amongst themselves, wondering about him, curious yet afraid to ask.

He would watch other people talking and chattering, joking and smiling…and he would feel so alone. Yes he was an alien on this planet. But did they not realize that while he was one being who was alien to them, the whole planet was alien to him. The air smelled wrong, the water tasted different. The gravity was slightly different than Chulak. He recognized none of the food.  

When he was outside he still kept waiting for the second sun to rise.  At night he found himself looking for the constellations he'd grown up with. Constellations that were no longer there.

When he'd first arrived he'd had nothing but his staff weapon, which he'd surrendered, and his armor. He'd had to depend on the Tau'ri for everything from the clothes on his back to the food he ate. It was pathetic for a First Prime to be dependent on charity.

He did not regret his choices, not many of them anyway. Yet there were times when he wished Earth felt more like home. How he longed for a place to call his own.

A place where he felt safe.

With an impatient sigh he banished the self-pitying thoughts. They accomplished nothing.

He cleared his mind and concentrated on his surroundings. He felt the warmth of the sun bathe his body, sinking into his muscles. He heard the slight breeze rustle the needles and boughs of the trees. Felt it brush across his skin, as soft as a lover's touch, drying the few beads of sweat.

Though they orbited a single sun, Earth was far warmer than Chulak. He did not mind that. When he had been in the court of Apophis, there were times when he'd never thought he'd feel warm again. He had been cold, body and soul, steeled against endless cruelties and atrocities. His feelings and emotions buried so deep inside himself, at times he wondered if he'd ever feel anything again.

A small scratching sound broke the silence. He opened his eyes to see a squirrel digging in the dirt a couple of feet away. A smile creased his face as he watched the small creature dig hole after hole, apparently not finding what he was searching for.

Remembering a similar creature he had seen, he slowly reached into his pants pocket and withdrew a hand full of sunflower seeds, an item O'Neill swore was as much a part of fishing as was his favorite malt beverage.

He softly lobbed a couple of seeds at the animal, noting its quick reflexes as it scampered back a few feet in apparent fear. He held himself still as the squirrel's hunger and curiosity overcame its trepidation and it cautiously picked up and ate the seeds.

 A few moments later he lobbed some more seeds at the animal, this time closer. Again it started but did not run far away.

Over the next half-hour or so he tossed more and more seeds at the creature, steadily winning its trust and drawing him nearer. Soon Teal'c extended his hand, the last few seeds in his palm and laid it on the ground beside his leg. He saw the quadruped hesitate, not quite willing to come closer. He focused his gaze on the small reddish brown creature. Its nose and whiskers twitched, its bushy tail switched in the grass as it studied the giant feeding it, the desire for a treat warring with its survival instincts.

Teal'c watched the squirrel take a couple of careful steps forward, its black eyes scanning around, obviously alert for danger.

He forced himself to remain perfectly still as tiny ebony claws gracefully snatched a seed from his palm.  He grinned broadly as the squirrel sat back on its haunches and expertly cracked the shell, swiftly gobbling down the white meat inside. He let the shell drop to the grass and moved forward to retrieve another. Teal'c watched the squirrel eat seed after seed, sitting so close to his hand now that the bits of shell fell back onto his palm.

Despite the razor sharp nails the animal possessed, he barely felt them as the animal dug through the shells, trying to find any more seeds.

He saw the creature suddenly stop in its hunt, its ears perking up, the dark eyes alert. With a swish of its bushy tail, the squirrel dug its feet into the ground and scurried off.

Teal'c tensed, wondering what danger had startled the creature, a danger he had not noticed.

"Yo Teal'c." he heard echoing through the trees. So O'Neill had awakened. For a moment he contemplated not answering, a part of him not wanting his solitude breached.

"Here. O'Neill," he answered, realizing the man would not simply go away. He reached down to put his shoes back on. First Primes did not cavort barefoot in the grass. He heard a twig snap and turned to see O'Neill emerge into he clearing. Even from this distance he could see the red color on the man's skin, especially his nose. He was suffering from a serious case of sunburn. An affliction his symbiote protected him from.

"So…got tired of fishing?" Jack asked casually, seating himself beside Teal'c.

"A far more efficient means of catching fish would be to cast a net," he replied, knowing full well it was the activity, or lack thereof,  rather than the results O'Neill cherished.

"Aaah…well…"

"Perhaps next time we can supplement fishing with a round of golf?"

"Yeah, I could do eighteen holes," Jack admitted. He knew Teal'c had been bored. Heck, he'd been bored. Somehow his memories of fishing trips with his dad had always been a lot more fun.

The two men fell quiet, the keening cry of a fish eagle the only sound that broke the silence.

After a moment Teal'c got to his feet, tossing away the remains of the seeds.

Jack also jumped to his feet and put a restraining hand on the Jaffa's arm. "Teal'c?" Teal'c turned, a quizzical look on his face. "What you said…in the glider…you saved my neck…again. Thank you," Jack said, holding out his hand.

Teal'c took the proffered hand, clasped O'Neill's forearm and inclined his head. "You would have done the same for me," he replied.

Jack snorted. "You know me and meditation…always fall asleep. Since we won't be eating fish, I know this diner that server a killer chicken fried steak. Whatta you say bro, want some dinner?"

With a last look at the clearing, Teal'c nodded and let the younger man lead the way to the cabin.

Yes Earth may not be the planet of his birth, and much of it still may be alien to him, but he did have family here. Perhaps not a family by blood, but a family nonetheless. And family made it home.

fin


	4. Errant Children

 Still Waters Four:

Errant Children

By

Denise

I watch the curiosity on my friends' faces begin to override their common sense as Anise explains the Antoniek armbands. I listen to the cool confidence in her voice and begin to find her insistence and impatience to use SG-1 as test subjects most disturbing.

Somehow I know Daniel Jackson's comment may indeed be prophetic. 'Yep, looks like trouble to me,' he said as we witnessed Anise's arrival. This is one time when I will not rejoice if he is correct.

I can not help but feel excluded as Anise explains the devices will not mesh with my Jaffa physiology.  Unable to participate in the experiment, I content myself with observing my friends. And I begin to make observations I do not like. Anise seems to look upon the Tau'ri as they would an insect. Such disdain seems more attributable to a Goa'uld than a Tok'ra.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Not surprisingly O'Neill submits himself first. This is to be expected. He has willingly volunteered himself to physical experimentation before, when we contaminated the SGC with the 'caveman virus' as O'Neill likes to call it.

I have observed however, that it was the then Captain Carter who volunteered for the hypnosis session in an attempt to ascertain the true fate of Daniel Jackson. O'Neill is freer with his body than his emotions. Perhaps it is because he has learned physical wounds heal with more ease than emotional ones.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Over the next few hour I see O'Neill begin to revel in his newfound physical strength and speed. I suggest a sparring match with O'Neill, not out of a desire for personal gratification or even as an accurate test of my skills and prowess as a warrior. I suggest the match at the behest of Dr. Fraiser who shares my belief that Anise is masking another purpose behind the subterfuge of an experiment.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The fact that O'Neill successfully renders me unconscious is not as disconcerting as perhaps it should be. Given his enhanced strength and speed, I would have been concerned had he not been able to prevail. I am concerned however by his apparent lack of remorse. This is not normal behavior for  O'Neill. My misgivings about the armbands continue to grow, yet I am helpless to do anything about it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

All three human members of SG-1 are now wearing the armbands and I have watched their demeanors change. Daniel Jackson and Major Carter have closeted themselves in their respective labs and have developed an almost obsessive desire for studying and learning.

However, as harmless as it appears, as their knowledge increases, so does their apparent frustrations with anything and any one that can not move at the same enhanced speed. I have witnessed similar behavior from newly blended Goa'uld who,  after experiencing the faster reflexes and greater strength of a symbiote, suddenly realize they are 'better' than the human they used to be.

Intoxicated on power is how Tek'mate Bra'tac used to describe them.

As disturbing as the behaviors of Daniel Jackson and Major Carter are, O'Neill's change in attitude could be described as the most frightening. For all his great strength and fortitude as a warrior, he always maintained a strong control over himself.

I have watched him deny his own hunger, thirst, pain or exhaustion when it would have endangered us, while noticing when one of us was in need of something.

Patience is a virtue of a great warrior. Patience is a virtue O'Neill now lacks. I have heard of his encounters with General Hammond. I fear soon not even his respect for his leader will be enough to prevent him from attempting to put his newfound powers to use.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Had the consequences not have been so grave, I think I would have enjoyed witnessing my friends indulging in a 'bar fight'. As humorous as it may have been, I find the aberrant conduct yet another sign of how the armbands are affecting their behavior. They are acting like spoiled children, fulfilling their own desires regardless of the cost to others.

Spoiled children with five times the strength of a normal human and the ability to move faster than the eye can perceive.

General Hammond is indeed correct. Should they decide they do not want to remain at this facility, we will not be able to restrain them.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I listen as Anise tells General Hammond of the new ship of Apophis'. I agree with the Tok'ra that it must be destroyed.

I also agree with General Hammond that the Tok'ra had knowledge of this ship all along. They have used us, used my friends, first as test subjects, then as weapons. Weapons that can be utialized with little or no cost to themselves.

Up to this point, I have always felt a grudging respect for the Tok'ra. They have spent millennia fighting a hopeless battle against a ruthless enemy. Yet in this instance, they have shown the same disregard for life I have witnessed in the Goa'uld.

I feel my respect for the Tok'ra lessening by the hour.

I know Dr. Fraiser shares my desire to attempt to contact Jacob Carter or Martouf. If we can no longer trust the Tok'ra High Council, perhaps the regard and affection these two men have for Major Carter will insure some straight forward answers.

And if I am to attempt to destroy Apophis' ship…assistance would be appreciated.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They have left. My three friends have gone off on their own to destroy the ship. I do know their armbands will protect them and afford them some advantages, however I can not help but worry. Physically they may be stronger yet emotionally they are seriously weakened.

I fear their extreme overconfidence may lead them to make serious miscalculations in judgement. I find myself anxious for not only their safety, but that they will decide to return at all.

They seem to view normal humans with such impatience that I fear they may elect not to come back to us. The three of them may choose to operate without the restrictions they must operate under here.

If they do not return, I do not know if I will remain with the SGC. I believe in the Tau'ri's battle, however, without my friends, I have no reason to stay on Earth. I will accomplish more on Chulak. I could work with Bra'tac and help him find and recruit Jaffa to aid in the battle against the Goa'uld.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

My friends are in grave danger. Not only are the armbands destroying their bodies, but also if Anise's tests are correct, they may find themselves defenseless on a planet full of Jaffa.

I saw O'Neill, Major Carter and Daniel Jackson as they departed on their mission. They carried no weapons, no supplies, and no armament. They put all their faith in the Antoniek armbands. Armbands that may come off at any time. When I relayed their status to General Hammond and Dr. Fraiser I saw they shared my fear and dread.

I must go to them. It is my duty to aid them, die at their side, or bring their bodies home.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I exit the gate, not prepared for what I see. Nearly one dozen Jaffa lie unconscious or dead on the ground. It appears my friends have had initial success. Or they were overwhelmed and captured. It is not unheard of for a Goa'uld to leave his Jaffa where they have fallen. They are easily replaced and a 'god' deserves to be served by truly good warriors. And a trio of unarmed humans would not best good warriors.

I follow their trail to the ship. It is not difficult. While they were able to move with great velocity, they did not move with stealth. This does reassure me that they were not captured. And for that I am grateful.

My fear grows however that they may not wish to return. They all know they have crossed the line with their behavior. They not only disobeyed a direct order, they assaulted their fellow officers to do so. And if they do not wish to return, I will be able to do nothing about it. I can not join them and I do not possess the strength to force them.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I enter the ship unmolested, stepping over Jaffa to do so. I am pleased to note, despite his trials of the past few years, Apophis still suffers from extreme arrogance. He has apparently put all his faith in the platoon of Jaffa guarding the gate to adequately defend, or, failing that, to warn him of an impending attack.

I make my way into the depths of the ship. I am counting on Major Carter assessing the weakest point of construction as I have. To destroy this ship, using the amount of C-4 that is missing from the armory, they could only be heading towards the cooling pipes. I quicken my pace. Something tells me time is of the essence.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I hear their voices. I have found them. Unfortunately so have some of Apophis' Jaffa.

I increase my gait and draw my zat-nik-a-tel. Through a doorway, I see two Jaffa advancing, staff weapons at the ready. I fire, feeling my heart stop as one of them gets off a shot before he dies. No. I can not have failed. From the sound of their voices, my friends could not have been far away. There is no way they could have avoided the shot. I hurry around the corner, letting my concern for my friends override my instincts.

I see Major Carter and O'Neill crouching over Daniel Jackson who is lying on the floor. I step forward, preparing myself for the worst. At this range, the damage to a human body by a staff blast would be quite severe.

I see them move and I realize, while Daniel Jackson may be injured, it is not by a staff weapon. Noting the lack of concern on O'Neill and Major Carter's faces, I surmise Daniel Jackson's injuries must not be fatal.

"It seems my assistance was required after all," I can not help but say, in much the same tone I used to use when Ry'ac was in his most petulant mood.

Much to my relief, O'Neill accepts my proffered assistance. He instructs me to take Daniel Jackson and flee while he and Major Carter purchase our escape. I do not like leaving them behind, yet I must. Daniel Jackson can barely walk, much less run from the Jaffa that are coming. Saving one life is better than none.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Where are they?" Daniel Jackson asks, pulling himself from my grasp.

"They should have been right behind us," I respond, stopping our flight. Given their augmented speed and strength, it should have taken them mere moments to disable the Jaffa and catch up with us. Something must be wrong. I start to go back. Perhaps their armbands have fallen off, leaving them helpless as it did Daniel Jackson.

I am stopped by a force field. The Goa'uld know of our presence. It may be a precaution or it may be because they have captured O'Neill and Major Carter.

Regardless, I will not leave without them. They are mere yards away. What is that Tau'ri saying?…So near yet so far.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I listen to Daniel Jackson enumerate the dire events to come. Even after all these years I do not fully comprehend the human desire to list in great detail negative events to unfold. It is not as if listing them will make them not happen.

"I am not leaving Daniel Jackson," I tell him needlessly. I know that if half of SG-1 is to survive I will have to pick him up and carry him back to the Stargate. And that time may come…just not yet.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When the C-4 blows there is not a large explosion. I see the force field fall. An unexpected window of opportunity has opened. I have a chance to search for O'Neill and Major Carter.

I start forward and am met by the objects of my search. Whatever obstacles they have met, they have overcome them with minimal physical damage to themselves.

We run through the woods, me covering our backs. I was correct in my assessment that they departed without rudimentary armament. We are indeed fortunate that they did such a proficient job of disabling the Jaffa on the way in. One Zat-nik-a-tel would be an insufficient defense against a dozen-armed Jaffa.

We reach the clearing, the ground still littered with bodies. I run forward to open the Stargate as my friends catch up. We have set a punishing pace to attain the gate in the limited time we have before the ship explodes. They would have had difficulty in maintaining this pace healthy, and if what Dr. Fraiser and Anise have surmised is true, then they are ill. An illness I am confident Dr. Fraiser can cure. I reuse to accept any other outcome.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

We come through the gate at a great velocity. Given our propensity for frantic dashes to the safety of the SGC, you would think the Tau'ri would devise a way to cushion our arrival.  I know Dr. Fraiser would appreciate it. She has often expressed concern over our many contusions.

I meet General Hammond's tolerant gaze as O'Neill, Major Carter and Daniel Jackson apologize for their behavior. I know such apologies are unnecessary. If anyone bears blame for their actions, it is Anise. I concur with General Hammond's assessment that the SGC and most especially SG-1 have been victims in their machinations. It does however, reassure me that all will return to normal. That their changes in attitude were as temporary as their enhancements from the armbands.

O'Neill looks at me, obviously expecting me to join in their acts of contrition. Apparently he believes I rescued them in violation of orders. "I have no need to apologize," I tell him, my voice full of undisguised satisfaction.

"Teal'c actually was following orders," General Hammond tells the recalcitrant members of SG-1, sharing a moment of satisfaction with me.

Yes, I have attained my goal and followed my orders. I have brought my errant children safely home.

fin


	5. Help Me

Still Waters Five: Help Me

By

Denise

They are dead.

They are dead because I failed them. I should have perceived the danger, swayed them from this path. Why did I not listen to my instincts? Why did I not voice my doubts? Three humans and one Jaffa against three Jaffa and one system lord are not good odds. I should have said no but I remained silent. Why did I not speak? I kept my counsel because I dared to let myself believe. There is something about the Tau'ri, something that stirs my imagination and my soul. On the surface they are so laughably primitive, so incredibly naïve. Yet beneath that benign exterior there rests an unfathomable spirit. A will to fight, a loyalty to their planet and to others that is unmatched in the universe.

It was the brief glimpse of that will that rekindled forgotten hope in my very soul. That tiny flicker of defiance, those two words uttered so harshly, so desperately, in that cell that fueled the tiny, battered sliver of hope that I'd struggled to keep alight.

I followed my instincts that day, and did not regret my decision. I ignored my instincts today, tamping them down in favor of Daniel Jackson's hopeful plan. And for that my friends have paid the ultimate price.

Captain Carter had been skeptical. I should have listened to her. Now I never will again. I spare her a brief glance. Her body lies as it fell, smoke still rising from the gaping wound in her belly. It is the same with Daniel Jackson and O'Neill.

The cloying, acrid odor of burnt flesh fills my nostrils. It is a smell I know well, however this is the first time in many years that I have smelled it from a friend's body. Giving into the anger I fire my staff weapon at their murderer, although I see that it is a wasted effort. I must do something, anything. If they must die they can not die in vain.

"Teal'c. Jaffa Sholva!" Apophis spits, looking smugly at me from behind his shield. When did he acquire such technology? It has only been a few months, how could he have gotten this without my knowledge? I believed that I was privy to all his plans, perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps he suspected my true feelings months, years ago? Was I too conceited in my belief that I had fooled him? Now my new friends will pay the price for my arrogance.

I have failed them, failed in my pledge to aid and protect them. I am not worthy of a warrior's death. Lowering my staff weapon I simply stand before Apophis in a last tiny gesture of defiance. He will have to murder me like he murdered my friends. "Dal shaka mel," I growl at him, surprised at the emotion in my voice. "I die free."

I die free of him, free of his perversions and degradations. I die knowing that with the help of O'Neill and the Tau'ri I did save a few lives. Not nearly enough to atone for all the atrocities I have committed over the years, but at least I tried. There will be no paradise for me, I will die. He will take my body back to Chulak, place my head on a pike for all to see. I will serve, as a warning for any that would dare to oppose a god. Drey'ac and Ry'ac, if they still live, will be forced to come and stand before it so that all can know that they are the family of a traitor. Then they will be banished, exiled from all, left to survive on their own. Ry'ac will forever bear the stain of his father's betrayal, as I have mine. 'Forgive me,' I beg them. 'Forgive me.'

I see his fingers tighten on the firing mechanism and I steel myself, fighting the urge to close my eyes.

If I can do nothing else to honor my fallen comrades I will die as they did, as a proud warrior.

The air waves and shimmers and I stare in amazement as Apophis roars his frustration, apparently not able to see me. What magic is this?

Three forms appear from nothing and go to my friends. What are they doing? I raise my weapon to defend them, but stay my actions. My instincts tell me that these creatures mean no harm.

"What are you doing?" I demand of one of them, the leader I believe. He gives me a sad look and pushes past me, carrying O'Neill effortlessly. "Where are you taking them?" The female of the group reaches out a comforting hand, then also proceeds past me bearing the limp form of Captain Carter. "Why did you save me?" I demand of the last man, the oldest looking of the group. He brushes Daniel Jackson's long hair off his face and picks him up with a strength that belies his slight stature.

They walk away and I hurry to follow. We travel for some time, picking a path they seem to see through the forest. When we reach a tiny clutch of dwellings they enter the largest, each gently lying my friends' bodies down on primitive beds. They fuss over them, picking at the bloody wounds on their bodies. I watch them silently disarm my friends, even finding the small knives both Captain Carter and O'Neill have secreted in their boots. Part of me bristles at this desecration but I do not comment. The eldest stands before me, his hands held out. Wordlessly I hand him my staff weapon. He takes it and oddly enough I do not care that I am now defenseless. He leaves with it and in a few moments all three of them come back and stand over us. I am seated on one of the beds, staring at the corpses of my friends. Is this their punishment? To have me see nothing but their bodies. They should know the sight of them falling would haunt me forever. I feel a chill run through me as I remember Captain Carter's panicked 'Colonel!' ringing through the air. I can still hear the pained grunts and cries as they fell. These aliens need not punish me; I will never forget what I have done.

I look up at them, unashamed of the tears that are streaming down my face. I do not see acrimony or hate in their eyes, rather compassion. "Help me?" I beg them, my voice harsh and rough. "Help me…please."

They look at each other and the leader nods. I watch them stand over O'Neill, their hands raised curiously. What are they doing? They're not helping them. I start to stand and feel a small hand on my leg. I look over and see a child standing beside me. With a shake of his head and a gentle shove, he bids me to stay seated.

Nodding my assent, I do as he says. After a few moments the creatures move from O'Neill and stand over Captain Carter.

The boy now takes my hand in his tiny one and pulls me forward. I follow and he takes me to O'Neill. Yes child, he is dead, I know that.

As if he can read my mind he shakes his head and guides my hand to O'Neill's back. Amazed, I can do nothing but touch it. There is no wound, no blood. His flesh is warm and whole. Shocked I turn to the child to see him smiling warmly. Still needing proof I put my hand by O'Neill's mouth and feel his warm breath caress my fingertips. Alive. He is alive.

The creatures leave Captain Carter and move onto Daniel Jackson, and I follow. As with O'Neill, her wound is gone, her belly flat and whole, the charred whole in her clothing the only sign of them being shot. Laying my fingers at her throat I can feel the steady thrum of blood through her veins. How is this possible? They died. I saw it with my own eyes.

They move away from Daniel Jackson and I check him also. Like the others, he is alive, apparently asleep.

Looking tired, the two men leave and the female approaches me. She holds out her hand and takes the child to her side with a soft smile. "Thank you," I whisper to her.

With a compassionate look she reaches out her hand, wiping the tears from my cheek.  She holds her hand over my pouch, a questioning look on her face. "It is not a wound. It is part of me," I tell her. With a sad nod she turns and leaves, taking the child with her.

I turn back to my friends. I can not fight the urge to check each of them again. Reassured that they still live, I seat myself on the floor by the door. They are defenseless at the moment and I must do all I can to protect them. I settle into a light state of meditation, my ears picking up the miniscule sounds of their breathing.

Some how, some way, I have been given a second chance. I failed them once; I will not fail them again.

Fin


	6. Filling the Void

Still Waters Six:

Filling the Void

By

Denise

I watch my friends sleep and I take a moment to curse the unfairness of the universe. I remember five years ago when I first set my eyes on these humans. Even confined in a cell, stripped of all their weapons, they remained defiant. They stood proudly among the frightened slaves, no less scared but able to hide it.

Throughout the years we have encountered many obstacles, some of our own design, others thrust upon us. And we have prevailed. We have surmounted those obstacles and emerged, sometimes battered but victorious and alive.

But not this time. This time fate has decided to deal us a most serious blow, one I hope we can recover from.

I remember my first days at the SGC. Once the initial wariness wore off, I remember the enthusiasm of my two youngest teammates. The excitement in their eyes when they had me discharge my staff weapon at the crystal entity. I had my doubts that my act was appropriate yet I found myself unable to refuse their request. I was swept up in their excitement like a leaf in a flood.

So many times though the years I have followed my friends, watching over them as they explored the universe, and themselves.

Through their eyes I saw the galaxy from a fresh perspective. Humans were not potential slaves and hosts but prospective allies. The Tok'ra are not annoying vermin, but valiant freedom fighters. Or at least annoying vermin that do not wish to dominate the universe like their brethren.

I have learned that the Asgard are noble and ballsy, as O'Neill would say. Using not much more than reputation and bravado to control the goa'uld.

When I joined SG-1 I allowed myself to feel that enthusiasm, that joy, once again. The same joy I felt when I traveled through the Stargate for the first time, clinging tightly to my father's hand.

 I watched Daniel Jackson, Samantha Carter and even O'Neill explore the universe and I found myself swept along with them. Some may say O'Neill does not possess enthusiasm or joy, but I have seen beneath the mask he projects. I have witnessed the sparkle in his eyes, the bounce in his step when we are seeing something for the first time. He too shares the wonderment of exploration, however he is better at disguising it behind a façade of indifference.

I do not know when that joy began to fade. It diminished so slowly that a set time of beginning is hard to determine. Maybe it was the first time Daniel Jackson died. Or perhaps it was when he realized that not only was Samantha Carter possessed by a goa'uld but when he knew that if he had listened to Jolinar's warning about the Ash'rak, his friend would have been spared the torture of the hara'kash. Maybe it was when he had to leave Daniel Jackson behind to die alone on Apophis' ship or maybe it was when he could do nothing but lie helplessly as Hathor's goa'uld burrowed into his skin, scarring him forever not only physically but mentally. Or maybe it was the futility of having to kill Apophis again and again.

I do not know for certain. I do know that it has been a long, long time since I have seen joy in their eyes. It has been a long time since I have witnessed laughter and fun.

It has been too long.

I have watched them drift closer together, then further apart. It is as if they are involved in some elaborate dance. As if each is on a path, paths that often run close together, but never cross. I can see that Daniel Jackson's ascension has placed a huge obstacle on their paths. One that threatens to knock them off course.

Major Carter is feeling Daniel Jackson's loss most keenly. Throughout the last year, fate has not been kind to her and she has had many losses. Martouf, Narim, Orlin, Joseph Faxon. And each time she has quietly drawn strength from her friends to overcome the pain.

But this time, it is one of her friends that she has lost, one of those sources of strength.

And another source of strength is not available to her. O'Neill, while being most willing to give his life so save his friends, hides his hurt and pain away like a miser hides his last penny.

He sees that Major Carter is hurting, yet he ignores it because to deal with her pain means that he will have to admit his own.

I see the beginnings of anger develop between them. Anger made more powerful by resentment.

My two remaining teammates are more similar than they like to admit. Both of them hide their pain and needs, presenting a calm mask to the rest of the world.

Daniel Jackson was most skilled at getting beneath the surface and reconciling the differences between them. It is a skill I lack.

Jaffa warriors are taught how to kill and how to survive to serve their god. Dealing with feelings is not something I am well versed at. However I believe I should learn.

Perhaps I can best honor Daniel Jackson's memory by ascertaining that his legacy does not fade away. That his friends remain friends. Perhaps I can fill some of the void left by his absence. And maybe, just maybe one day, they will find their joy again.

Fin


	7. Birthed in Flame

Still Waters Seven:

Birthed in Flame

By

Denise

Fire.

Our marriage was born in fire. When I close my eyes I can still see the flames reflecting off her soft face. I can smell the distinctive odor of Baraka oil in the lantern, feel the warmth on my skin. I remember her hands trembling in mine, her palms slightly moist. Her voice soft but strong, when she spoke her vows to me. Her dark eyes glittering in the firelight, hinting at the passion that she kept buried inside.

She revealed that passion to me that night, her voice low and urgent, her movements graceful as we found completion in each other's arms.

She showed that fire again the day Ry'ac was born, as she fought to bring our son into this universe. His birth was long and difficult, yet she never gave up, never stopped fighting. Had she been a weaker woman, they both would have died that day.

Had she been a weaker woman they both would have perished years later as well. I felt great guilt and remorse at leaving them behind when I joined the Tau'ri. Yet I also knew if anyone was up to the challenge, it was Drey'ac. I did her a great wrong that day, still I honestly felt I was protecting her. I had no idea if O'Neill would treat an enemy with compassion or if I was going to my death when I turned on my men and betrayed my 'God'. I was not aware anyone would live to bear word of my betrayal to Apophis. I believed he would regard me as captured, not sholva. I was mistaken. And my family paid the price.

Fire is what eventually took her away from me. The destruction of our home reflected the destruction of our marriage. I know she never forgave me for what I did, how I hurt her and our son. Even after they moved to the Land of Light, I could still see the suffering and mistrust in her eyes, the coldness in her heart. She allowed me to visit them and she welcomed me into her new home, but not into her bed. Ry'ac was all we had left.

I believe that is why she left the Land of Light and sought refuge amongst the rebel Jaffa. I know she had lovers other than Fro'tak, but I can not blame her. Our marriage was now in name only and she is far too passionate a woman to be alone forever. I will not begrudge her any happiness she may have found.

Every warrior has regrets, and I am no exception. I regret that she did not trust me enough to tell me her primta was mature, I regret that I did not get to see her smile one last time, hear her whisper my name, feel her hand in my own. We had our differences, we grew apart, but she was still the mother of my son. She is, was, the one thing that gave me hope during those dark years when I committed atrocity after atrocity all in the name of a false god.

She deserved better than I. She should have had a husband who adored her, waited upon her, fulfilled her every wish. Yet what life granted her was a husband who abandoned her to the whims of a vengeful 'god', a husband who left her alone in her bed more than he was there. A husband who forced her to be both father and mother.

I light the pyre and watch the flames grow, the smoke swirling up into the sky. I see her face in the flickering flames, hear her voice in the crackling and popping of the wood. The fire heats my face and I feel her hands caress my cheek one last time. Somehow, somehow I know that she understands. She forgives me for putting our people before our marriage. She trusts me to finish raising our son.

And that I will do. Our son shall be strong and wise. He shall be a great warrior and when he chooses a wife, he shall not condemn her to the hardships that I set upon his mother. He shall learn from my mistakes and will live a life free of the reign of false gods.

And when he has a son, I shall feed him setak cakes and tell him of Drey'ac of the Cordai Plains. I shall insure that he never forgets, for as long as someone remembers her, she shall never die.

Fin


	8. Entertainment Value

Note- It's been a while since I took a peek into Teal'c's head. Still Waters started a couple of years ago and is a series of stories exploring Teal'c in some way. Each story is a standalone in its own right.

Still Waters Eight:

Entertainment Value

By

Denise

It is not an uncommon occurrence for us to be incarcerated. I do not know if this is good or not. Given that we are usually detained at the behest of a goa'uld and that we have an uncanny ability of gaining our freedom, it is usually not as onerous as it sounds.

One complaint I often hear from my companions is that they suffer from boredom during incarceration. O'Neill does not tolerate physical inactivity well and I have often observed him 'fiddling', as Major Carter says. I have known men like him before, men that do not desire stillness, rather action.

Major Carter, Daniel Jackson and Jonas Quinn all possess curious minds. They are at their best when they can occupy those minds, absorbing knowledge as a sponge absorbs water.

I must confess, I also find incarceration boring. Often there is little to contemplate other than one's discomfort, impending torture, and nothing to look at but cell walls and bars.

How I wish that were the case this time.

The cells under Nirti's palace are not the vilest I have been in. They are well lit and open, nothing like some of the offensive, dank places I have been in my life. We are all kept within sight of each other, something that reassures and worries me at the same time. For I know this was not meant to comfort us, but for the entertainment value.

Often in the past, we have been separated, kept out of sight and hearing of each other, with nothing but our imaginations to fill in the voids in our knowledge. Nothing but worry about the torture our friends are experiencing to entertain us.

I find it doubtful that Nirti has any type of torture in mind for us. At least not the usual kind of torture. Instead she has devised something far more insidious.

This time I will not face the boredom of contemplating unchanging cell walls, I shall be granted a front row seat at my friends' deaths. It is doubtful that her machine shall work on me and I know, once my friends are dead, I shall be sold to the highest bidder, traded to another system lord to elevate Nirti's position.

Nirti chose to experiment on Major Carter first, not only because the two women have bad blood between them, but also because she is no doubt aware that watching our friend die will be more painful than dying ourselves.

We have watched her fade over the last few hours, and now that O'Neill has been taken, I fear I shall stand lone witness to my friend's death.

Jonas Quinn has been returned to his cell just prior to O'Neill being taken. He does not seem as effected as Major Carter or Colonel Evanov, yet I can tell that he is not well.

Major Carter stirs and I find my eyes drawn to her. I have made the occasional verbal entreaty into her health, however I have received no response. She lies on the cot, her eyes closed. I watch her chest rise and fall, her breathing becoming shallower and more rapid. It catches occasionally and her face contorts as wave after wave of pain wash over her.

I watch her hand fumble at her neck and I wonder if she can not breathe. She tugs at the chain around her neck and I watch her slowly pull it from under her shirt. Her eyes remain closed and I sense that this act is requiring all her concentration.

Finally the chain is free and she pauses for a moment. She feels for and finds the clasp, opening it with one hand. I watch her drag the broken chain from around her neck, her hand falling over the edge of the cot. Her fingers clench for a second, then relax, the small metal tags falling to the stone floor with a slight tinging sound.

I recognize the significance of her act and my heart breaks. She knows there will be no body to take back to the SGC. She has surrendered to her fate and accepted her death.

_Reading the numbers on the time telling device, I gain my feet, quietly making my way over to the two small tents nestled against a large rock face. It was dark and quiet, the only sounds on this alien planet the crackle of the fire and the noises of insects. "Captain Carter?" I say, knocking against the front of her tent._

_"Huh?"_

_"Captain Carter, it is time for your watch," I say, trying to keep my voice soft enough not to wake the other two members of the team._

_"Yeah. Be out in a minute."_

_I leave her tent and walk back to the fire, reaching for a cup and pouring her some of the beverage the Tau'ri use as a stimulant. In a couple of moments, she exits her tent, joining me at the fire._

"Thank you," she says, accepting the beverage. She takes a sip then frowns, digging at the neck of her shirt. "Stupid things are going to choke me some day," she complains, pulling the chain and its dangling contents from under her shirt. I have noticed this odd item worn by her, O'Neill and the other members of the base.

_At first I had thought it was something worn by members of the SGC, however I have noticed that some do not have them. _

_I have wondered about this, yet there has never been an appropriate time to broach such a trivial subject. Until now. "Captain Carter? May I make an inquiry?"_

_  
"What? Sure."_

_"I have noticed that some members of the SGC wear items around their necks, however not everyone does. I was curious as to their purpose."_

_"You mean these?" She held up the necklace. He nodded. "They're called dog tags. They're identification. It tells people who I am, my social security number, my religion, my blood type." She pulls the chain from around her neck and holds it out to me._

_"This is information that can be gained quite easily by simply asking you," I say, accepting the chain._

_"True. But there are times when I may not be able to answer their questions. Say I was unconscious. People will know who I am." _

_"Both of these are identical."_

_"Yeah. You wear two. If something happens and I'm killed, the people that find me will take one and they'll leave one with the corpse so I can be identified later." She takes the necklace from me, snapping the catch on the shorter chain. "So, if something happens to one of us, you take the tag on the short chain and leave the other one with the body," she instructs._

_"And if there is no body?" I ask as I take the tag from her, running my fingers over its smooth surface. The piece of metal is ringed with a rubber band, presumably for the comfort of the wearer as well to muffle the noise of the metal tags impacting with each other._

_She shrugs. "Then all you can do is report back," she says as I hand it back to her. She reassembles her necklace, slipping it back around her neck. She tucks it under her shirt, and picks up her mug of coffee._

"Teal'c?"

Jonas' voice pulls me from my memories. He is sitting up now, his attention riveted on Major Carter. "I am aware," I tell him. His distress is clear on his face as we listen to the gasping final breaths of our friend.

"Help us," he said, getting to his feet and making his way to the bars. "She didn't do anything to hurt you, you can't let her die," he implores the people.

I make no such outcry. These people are too beaten, too subservient to risk the wrath of Nirti. Instead I fix my eyes upon my teammate, steeling myself to witnessing the death of yet another friend. And I know I shall witness the death of SG-1 as well, for I fear the team will not survive another blow.

There is a disturbance and I see O'Neill hurrying into the room, Egar following closely behind. He spares no time for conversation, instead making his way into Major Carter's cell, picking her up and leaving the dungeon as quickly as he can burdened by another human being.

Jonas follows him but I do not. Instead I make my way into Major Carter's cell, bending down to retrieve the discarded tags. I carefully pick them up, pledging to keep them safe, hoping that I can return them to their owner.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I walk into the infirmary, taking a moment to acknowledge the presence of the night nurse. I make my way to the far bed, knowing that Doctor Fraiser is aware of Major Carter's preferences.

She is asleep in one of the beds, curled up under the blankets. Doctor Fraiser has informed us that she believes Wodon did repair the damage, however she can not know for sure for several days.

Until then, the only treatment she can prescribe is for Major Carter to rest. Unlike the last time, she is sleeping peacefully, her breathing deep and even. There is no sign of the pain or fear that had marred her features on the planet.

Loath to disturb her healing slumber, I bend over, gently opening one of her hands. I lay the tags upon her palm, closing her fingers over the small items. Aware that she is often cold, I take moment to pull the blanket up. Satisfied that all is well, I leave the room, grateful that the outcome had not been different.

I return to my room, knowing that I must kelnoreem. For I know something else about my teammates. Prisons are not the only places where they experience boredom. And I shall do what I can to keep her entertained.

Fin


	9. Only Human

Still Waters Nine:

Only Human

By

Denise

I sit my watch, finding peace and tranquility in the alien dawn I am witnessing. This planet's sun is a red giant and it paints the sky in colors far more vivid than I have witnessed on Earth.

It is rare that I am given the last watch, however I feel that O'Neill has done it in deference to my recent health crisis. It is likely the same reason he gifted Major Carter with first watch, taking the dreaded midwatch upon himself.

I run my hand across my belly, still not quite accustomed to not encountering the presence of another. Doctor Fraiser says that my womb is closing, the skin healing, no doubt aided by the tretonin I am now required to consume on a regular basis.

The absence of my symbiote has wrought many changes upon my life. I have noticed that I feel different. I now have the need for sleep in addition to my meditations. Doctor Fraiser has theorized that any wounds I suffer may not heal as quickly as they did when I carried my primta.

There is much she cannot tell me, her experience with Jaffa and with the tretonin too limited for her to make any conclusive diagnosis.

I have long desired to lose my symbiote, yet now that it is gone, I find that I miss it. In recent days, I have woken in the early hours of the night feeling my primta squirm within me, yet I know that it is not there.

I hear a sound and look to see the front flap of one of the small tents open. Major Carter crawls out, taking a moment to stretch before walking my way. "Morning," she says softly.

I incline my head as I watch her pour some water from her canteen, setting it to heat beside the fire. The coffee started, she will now excuse herself, seeking privacy to complete her morning ablutions.

I find this predictability in my friend's actions comforting. It provides some consistency in our lives. Major Carter leaves and I take a moment to gain my feet, also stretching my muscles, preparing myself for the short hike back to the Stargate.

It is only Major Carter, O'Neill and myself on this mission; Jonas Quinn is still recuperating from his surgery. General Hammond had suggested a replacement, however I am aware that O'Neill refused the man's offer. I am not sure why he has done this, but I do confess that I do not mind not having the presence of a stranger to deal with.

Major Carter returns, her face slightly damp and joins me by the fire. She dumps a packet of instant coffee into the warming water and reaches into her pocket, pulling out the small nutrition bar that serves as breakfast. "Wow, he's still asleep," she says, motioning towards O'Neill's tent.

"Indeed."

"That's what he gets for taking second watch," she said. "I know he spent some time with Jonas before we left, teaching him how to play chess."

I am aware that the two men have been spending time together. I am glad to note that O'Neill has finally accepted Jonas Quinn not only onto his team, but into that tiny circle of people he calls friends.

Major Carter pours herself a cup of the coffee, barely waiting for it to finish brewing. She often does this, so impatient for her morning stimulant that she consumes it premature to it being ready. She blows on it to cool the beverage, and then takes a sip, closing her eyes in pleasure. She takes a second sip, and then sets the cup down, pouring another.

She gets to her feet, making her way over to O'Neill's tent. "Colonel, if you don't get up, I'm gonna drink all the coffee," she says, shooting a mischievous look over her shoulder. "Colonel?" Her smile fades when she gets no response.

She sets down the cups and pulls her pistol from its holster. I gain my feet, picking up and arming my staff weapon. She looks to me then reaches down and flings back the tent flap. "Aargh!" I hear her cry as she quickly takes aim and fires. There is a flurry of activity and O'Neill's tent collapses. "Teal'c!" Major Carter cries as she reaches in to pull the tent off of O'Neill.

Still unsure as to what is wrong, I hurry to aid her. I can hear O'Neill cursing and see the tent material bucking as he strives to free himself. His head appears and Major Carter reaches in, digging her fingers into his shirt to pull him to his feet.

He falls backwards, clearly unable to hold his balance. "Where is it?" he demands.

"I don't know."

"Find the goddamn thing!" he orders.

"I am not sticking my hand in there," she retorts, standing by him, her weapon still drawn.

"What has happened?" I ask them, unsure what could generate such a response from them.

"The colonel had a date," Major Carter says, smiling slightly as she lowered her weapon.

"Carter," he growls, shooting her a dark look.

"There was a snake, Teal'c," she explains, unfazed by O'Neill's ire. "It was curled up on his leg."

"It was one hell of a rude awakening," he says, moving to stand up. He has removed his boots and jacket, evidentially finding the warmth of the night enough to compensate for his lack of clothing. He staggers and reaches out, grabbing Major Carter's arm to keep his balance. "Crap," he mutters.

"Sir?"

"I think the bastard bit me."

She immediately helps him sit back down, instantly reaching for his feet. He leans back and lets her peel back the pants leg, revealing two small puncture wounds. "He bit you all right," she says hurrying back to her tent. "Teal'c," she says as she returned with the first aid kit. "We need to find the snake and take it back with us." She holds out a plastic bag and I take it. "I think I got it, so chances are it's dead."

I begin to gingerly explore the remains of O'Neill's tent with my staff weapon, knowing that, should the snake be alive, it would not do for two of us to get bitten.

I find the corpse, or rather what is left of it. Major Carter's bullet has neatly severed it in two. This is perhaps fortunate. If it is poisonous then having access to its head and fangs may aid Doctor Fraiser. By the time I have collected the gory specimen Major Carter has finished with the limited first aid she is capable of given the fact that we are on an alien planet. "Did you find his boots?" she asks, bandaging the wound.

I hold out the footwear and O'Neill puts them on. "Leave anything we don't need. We'll come back for it later," she orders, moving to retrieve her pack from her tent.

"Don't I have anything to say about it?" O'Neill grouses, accepting his pack which I pull from the wreckage of his tent.

"No," she says. "The gate's an hour's walk away, sir. What we should do is make a travois or stretcher and carry you."

"You are not carrying me," he says, getting to his feet.

"Which is why I figure the sooner we start walking, the further we can get before you're effected by the venom. Assuming of course it has any venom and it's not just a plain old snake bite," she says.

He frowns at her, taking a few experimental steps. "When did you get to be so pushy?"

"Must have picked it up from someone I hang around with," she quips back. "Teal'c, you ready to go?"

I nod and take one last glance around, insuring that we are not abandoning anything important and that the campfire is out.

It takes us a little over the appointed hour to reach the Stargate. By the time we arrive, O'Neill is limping heavily, his injury obviously paining him. I move to support O'Neill as Major Carter dials the Stargate. "I wish to apologize, O'Neill," I tell him.

"What for?"

"The creature must have entered your tent while I stood watch. I should have noticed its presence and prevented it from doing so," I tell him, knowing in my heart that his injuries are my fault. I was charged with the duty of watch and I neglected that duty.

"For crying out loud, Teal'c," he growls. "You're only human," he says as the Stargate opens.

Automatically, I aid him in walking through the gate and returning to Earth. Once there, Major Carter accompanies O'Neill to the infirmary after retrieving the snake from me with a rueful look.

I am left alone in the gateroom, O'Neill's words echoing in my brain. Only human. He is right. I am only human. And he may die because of it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I hear the footfalls of another and I fight the temptation to gain my feet and find another refuge. I remain upon my perch and tell myself that I must tolerate the presence of others, this is not my mountain, indeed many members of the SGC seek refuge up here, under the stars.

I remain still, hoping that the person will pass by and leave me to my solitude. "There you are." I close my eyes and smother a groan. "I've been looking all over for you," Major Carter says as she comes to sit beside me. "Janet said the colonel's going to be fine. The snake apparently wasn't poisonous. She's going to keep him overnight for observation. She may regret it once he and Jonas get into another marathon chess match though," she says. I nod, hoping that she will get the silent message. She does not, instead shifting her position a bit to be more comfortable.  "You vanished right after we got back," she says after a few minutes.

"My presence was not required."

"What's wrong, Teal'c?" she asks, laying her hand on my arm. "You've been quiet the last few weeks…quieter than usual. Is something wrong?"

I remain silent, part of me wishing to maintain my privacy, yet another part of me desiring to share my burden. "I am no longer Jaffa," I say, almost before I realize I am saying anything.

"Yeah," she says after a moment. "For about six years now."

I sigh. "That is not of which I speak."

"Oh. You mean because of Junior?"

"Indeed."

"Teal'c. I thought…all you've ever talked about is ending the Jaffa's dependence on the Goa'uld."

"I am still dependant on the goa'uld," I tell her. "The tretonin is merely a different form."

"True," she admits after a moment. "Do you want us to see if we can find you another symbiote?" she asks me. "I mean, they're rare, but not impossible to find. We could even ask General Hammond to tell the other SG teams if they run across some Jaffa in battle to…"

"No," I interrupt her. "I do not wish for another Jaffa to die so that I may live. My life is not that valuable."

"It is to us." I do not respond and neither does she. We sit quietly on the mountaintop, taking comfort in the simple presence of each other. "You know, I can't sense you anymore," she says softly.

"Of that I am aware," I answer her. That is one of the first things I noticed upon my release from the infirmary, that I could no longer feel her presence. I had never realized how much I depended upon that, how much I'd taken comfort in having that connection with a member of my team.

"I miss it," she confesses.  "It freaked me out at first…right after Jolinar.  But…once I got used to it, it was nice. " She turns to face me. "Teal'c, things have changed. Maybe they'll be good, maybe they won't be. Things changed for me right after Jolinar. And I know that I was so afraid nobody'd like me or want to be near me anymore. But you guys didn't do that. I changed and you accepted the changes. We don't care if you can't sense symbiotes anymore. Or if you need to sleep, or…if you can't hear one tiny little snake on an alien planet. You're still alive.  You're still here. And that's what we care about." She gets to her feet and lays her hand on my shoulder. "I'm going to hit the bakery and bring in some cinnamon rolls for breakfast. 0630 in the infirmary if you want to join us," she says. I listen to her walk away, as quietly as she arrived.

I crane my head back, studying the stars above my adopted home. They are so different from the heavens of my home planet, yet so similar. I take comfort in their presence, in their inexorable march across the heavens. Orion's yearly appearance in the night sky as predictable as the rising of the sun or the ebb and flow of the tide. I take comfort in that predictability, as I take comfort in the knowledge that it makes no difference if I am human or Jaffa. I will not be judged by my weaknesses or my failings. My friends will accept me, even if I am now only human.

Fin


	10. Power of the Gods

Still Waters Ten:

Power of the Gods

By

Denise

I have witnessed many things in my life. Things that once astonished and frightened me.

When I was a young boy, I recall seeing Cronos at his palace. I remember standing behind a heavy pillar as my father had an audience with him. My father, Ronak, was not yet First Prime, but a mere lieutenant in Cronos' army. Kneeling before him was another Jaffa, a captive from Nirti's army.

The day was hot, the sun bright in the sky. The man knelt before Cronos, his hands bound and his face bruised and bloody, testifying that he had not been captured easily.

I saw Cronos speak to him; interrogate him, his ire growing as the man's answers did not please my God. I remember seeing Cronos' eyes glow, his voice rising in anger, then I watched him raise his hand, the brilliant orange beam streaming from his palm. The Jaffa screamed, writhing in agony, and then slumped to the ground, lifeless.

That was the first time I witnessed the power of a god. The first time I witnessed a goa'uld kill with a mere thought. And it struck me to my core. It fueled my terror on that horrible day when my father was murdered and my mother and I fled for our lives through the chaappai. It haunted my dreams for years as I fought the fear that Cronos would find us and make us suffer as that Jaffa had.

That same fear transformed into worship as I joined Apophis' army and worked my way through the ranks.  I believed that he was a god and I worshiped him, letting my adoration cloud my judgment and dim my vision of what I was really witnessing. I pushed away my disgust at my actions, telling myself that a god would only have me doing just acts.

I willingly let death after death stain my soul, because I was doing it for my god, I sacrificed myself for Apophis and did not question the toll it exacted from me.

I was indeed fortunate that Bra'tac opened my eyes and helped me to see the truth. He saved my life and he saved my soul and one day he may save our people.

Even after I began to live among the Tau'ri, I was still in awe of the powers of the gods. They had weapons far different than those I was used to, but they still seemed to be weapons of a god. For who could defeat a god but another deity.

It was O'Neill who explained the difference to me, taking me to a firing range and demonstrating his weapons, weapons he even let me discharge.  He and Captain Carter would explain other marvels of the Tau'ri to me, the miracle of electric lights, chilled food cabinets, running water and more. They did not hoard their wonders, using them to intimidate and scare, rather they shared them openly with me, willing to educate me in their use and explain exactly how they worked, although Captain Carter is more skilled in that area than O'Neill.

I began to see that the true way to remove fear is through understanding. As O'Neill would teach me about his weapons, he sought my instruction on my staff weapon, firing it repeatedly, learning its strengths and weaknesses.

I am aware that he reported his findings to his superiors and I am glad of that fact.  If the Tau'ri are indeed going to continue exploring the universe, they must understand the risks they will face.

O'Neill has termed my staff a 'weapon of terror' and he is correct. While their guns are capable of inflicting great damage, their scars are the kind that are only seen in the bright light of day, after the dust of battle has cleared and there is time to search for small holes in walls and armor.

Many times in my life I have led raids, our paths illuminated by the fires birthed from staff weapon blasts. A fire, even a small one, inflicts a near paralyzing terror upon its victims. Their terror makes it harder for them to hide from us. They panic and burst from their hiding places, becoming easy prey.

The goa'uld ribbon weapon is not much different. It was created to frighten the masses, to deliver the illusion of godly power to a simple people.

I have seen it used with both seductive gentleness and violent power. I have heard tales that some goa'uld utilize it to woo their lovers, using it to mix pleasure with pain in their immortal quest to eliminate boredom from their long lives.

I have also heard of the odd goa'uld that would use the ribbon weapon upon the battlefield, not to protect himself, but to personally deliver the wrath of a god upon his enemy's soldiers, destroying their morale along with their bodies.

I have experienced the device in my life, once gaining Apophis' ire and I am shamed to admit that I fear it still. I am aware that Apophis sought to punish me and hold me in his thrall, yet that moment is one of many turning points in my life.

It was years later before I fully understood the gift he gave me when he punished me. It was then that I saw through Apophis' lies. For if he were truly a benevolent god, he would not be able to strike down one of his worshippers so easily. A true god would love his children too much to harm them, and Apophis was no true god.

If I possessed any lingering thoughts as to Apophis' godhood, the sight before me would end them.

Although it is close to one of their cities, the SGC is secluded, shielded from outside exposure by tall trees and sturdy fences. In recent months, General Hammond has granted me the privilege of leaving the inner sanctum of the SGC and allowing me to journey to the surface, provided that I remain within the SGC's outer boundaries at all times.

I am aware that I am not the only person to seek the solitude and privacy of the surface. I have noticed small paths worn into the scant vegetation, and have seen the occasional signs of human presence in the foot prints of the familiar Tau'ri boots.

Some individuals come to the surface for recreation, others as part of their duties. The perimeter is patrolled by guards and I have often witnessed team leaders using the secure environment to train their people in the equipment and weapons of the Tau'ri.

Training is what is transpiring before me, but it is not the weapons of the Tau'ri that are being used. Captain Carter is standing alone a few yards away, her left hand extended before her. I can see the dull glitter of the ribbon device she acquired from Kendra's grave wrapped around her wrist. I am aware that she succeeded in making the device work on Cimmeria, yet as far as I know, that was the only time.

I see her tense and frown, obviously trying to make the device work. After several seconds, she lowers her arm and I see her shoulders slump, the defeat obvious in her stance.

A part of me rails at what I'm seeing. It seems wrong to see one of the Tau'ri wielding a goa'uld weapon, especially one reserved for a God. Upon Chulak she would be struck down for daring to even touch the weapon, much less trying to make it work.

But as O'Neill is fond of saying, we are not on Chulak.

She takes a deep breath and raises her hand again, her eyes narrowing in concentration. Her body strains and much to my surprise, the amber jewel in the center of the device bursts into life. I look into her eyes and am not surprised to find them unfocused, her expression distant.

A few seconds later the jewel fades, once again becoming dark and opaque. Her shoulders slump again and she frowns, sitting upon a large rock. It appears that if she is to master the device, it is a skill that will not come easily.

I should retreat and allow her privacy, yet I feel myself drawn forward, moving to stand at her side. She does not look at me, instead studying the device upon her hand. "I can't make it work again," she says, wiggling her fingers slowly.

"Perhaps it is a skill you are not meant to master."

She shakes her head. "I should be able to. Gairwyn said Kendra could use them both."

"Kendra was a host for many years."

"You don't understand, Teal'c," she says, looking at me. "I know how to do this. Jolinar…I remember her using one of these. I remember how it felt, I…there was this rush of power…she had one of these, but it wasn't hers, she took it from someone, like a trophy, she never took it off. She loved the feel of it on her hand, the knowledge that as long as she had it, no one could ever hurt her."

"From whom did she acquire it?" I ask her, curious as to which goa'uld the Tok'ra may have killed.

She shrugs. "I don't know. I mean, I do, but I can't find the name. I've even tried looking through some of  Daniel's books but nothing's familiar."

I hold out my hand and she frowns, then places her hand in mine. I trace the metal bands on her fingers, running from the caps on her fingertips to the thin metal ribbon wrapped around her wrist. The center stone is cool and smooth under my fingers, yet the metal is warm, conducting her body's heat.

I can see faint scratches on the metal, a sign that this was not simply adornment, but a tool, a weapon that was used. "Do you remember how this device works?"

"A little," she says. "It uses the naquadah in a person's blood to power it. I think it amplifies emotions, the madder you are the stronger the blast will be."

"Then perhaps you are destined to never master this device," I say, releasing her hand.

"What do you mean?"

"To truly control this device you must hate. And I do not believe you are capable of such  an emotion," I tell her, believing my words.

She makes a face and shakes her head. "Somehow I don't think the colonel will accept that as a good excuse."

"Colonel O'Neill has instructed you to learn this device?" I ask her. I had not been made aware that she'd been assigned this task but was under the impression that it was something she did willingly.

"No, I…I thought maybe if I could learn this it would help. The same with the healing device. I mean, think about it, the next time someone's hurt, and Janet can't do anything, maybe I can help."

"Perhaps," I say, not wishing to quash her enthusiasm, yet unable to  share it with her. I am aware why she wishes to learn. Through learning comes understanding, and through understanding, acceptance. She is endeavoring to accept who she is and what she has become.

I know that it will give her peace, yet I fear for her.

Jolinar's name is not unfamiliar to me. He once led an army against Apophis and I am aware that he was known for being ruthless. I do not wish to see my teammate affected in the same way. To witness her soul eaten away by the power that she has within her.

I have heard the Tau'ri say that absolute power corrupts absolutely, and what can corrupt worse than the power of a god?

"Come," I say, getting to my feet.

"What?"

"It is time for the midday meal," I tell her, reaching down to take her hand and pull her to her feet.

"It is?" She looks to her watch. "It's only 1100. I can still try—"

"Captain Carter," I interrupt her. "If this device taps the emotions of the user, it is possible that it also draws upon their personal energy. Would you not have more energy after a meal?"

She frowns, then sighs. "Maybe you're right," she agrees.

I lead her back into the SGC, ignoring the faint echoes of guilt in my chest. Perhaps I am wrong to manipulate her this way, but I do not care. I will do what I can to aid her in understanding herself without becoming proficient in this device. The Goa'uld have claimed too many souls for me to assist in another.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A year later I am reminded of that Colorado morning as I make my way through a throng of confused people. My friends are down here somewhere and they are in danger.

I see  a small group of white robed people and I make my way over to them, wondering what could be drawing their attention. I see a flash of pale skin and I push forward, afraid that I shall recognize the features of the person on the ground.

"Teal'c." I hear O'Neill's voice as I identify the corpse as Seth, the object of our mission.

"O'Neill," I acknowledge. "He is dead?"

I cannot help but stare at the body, his limbs awkwardly sticking out of the ground. He looks like a rag doll that had been ruthlessly forced into a corner that is too small to contain it. No Earth weapon did this. It must have been Selmac.

"Sam killed him," Daniel Jackson reports, shattering my perceptions.

I look to O'Neill who nods grimly. "Daniel, why don't you get up top, see if  you can do any damage control. I'm gonna stay here, make sure no one tries to do anything with the body. T," he turns to me. "Jacob took a hit. I think Carter went back to him. Why don't you go see if they need a hand."

I nod and turn on my heel, now paying less attention to the people around us, searching for Captain Carter and her father.

I find them a short distance away. Jacob Carter is seated on the ground, his back against the wall. Captain Carter is kneeling by his side, the concern for her parent plain on her face. "I found them," General Carter says as he sees me. "Seth?"

"He is no longer a threat," I tell the man, studying him and Captain Carter closely. The general is drawn, obviously he has been affected by his trials. Captain Carter's face is set, her eyes shadowed. Her shoulders stiffen at my words and somehow I know that she has not yet told her father precisely what her role in Seth's death was.

"We should get you checked out," she says softly to her father. "Make sure nothing is wrong."

"It's nothing Selmac can't fix," he says, moving to get to his feet. I step forward and take one arm as Captain Carter does the other, assisting the man to his feet. He groans softly, arching his back. "Although a long hot bath would feel good right about now," he moans, his hand going to his lower back.  "They keep making those rocks harder and harder."

"Dad?" Captain Carter asks.

"I'm fine," he insists. "Stiff and sore, but fine. You worry too much," he chides.

"We need to get you out of here," she says, ignoring his words. She looks to me and I move forward, positioning my self at Jacob Carter's side. Together we assist him through the dwindling throngs of people. We reach the ladder and we step back as General Carter shakes off our hands, stating his intention to remove himself from the tunnels unassisted.

I stand by Captain Carter's side as we watch her father slowly climb up the rungs. "You may find your climb easier with your hands unencumbered," I say softly.

"What?" I look down and she follows my gaze, frowning at the sight of the ribbon weapon still wrapped around her wrist. "Oh yeah," she says. "I forgot."

She starts to take the weapon off, slowly pulling her fingers from the metal caps. "Among the Jaffa, we call that device the Power of the Gods," I tell her. She doesn't respond, her attention focused on extricating her hand from the golden bands. "I have seen it used many times, more than I can count. I regret that I missed witnessing your triumph over Seth."

She looks up to me, her face creased in a frown. "Triumph? That was no triumph. I killed him."

"As he would have you, given the chance."

She shakes her head. "It's not the same, Teal'c."

"Indeed it is not," I agree, catching her attention. "Seth would have murdered you and all his worshippers out of malice and cruelty. Your deep affection for your father gave you the strength to banish the demon and free these people. The Goa'uld are doomed to fail because they cannot see that love is a far more powerful emotion than hatred and fear."

She looks away, not wishing to accept my words. "Sam?" General Carter calls from above. "You coming."

"Yeah," she answers, moving towards the ladder. She climbs up on one rung, then steps down and turns to face me. Wordlessly, she lays her hand on my arm and squeezes it gently, then turns back to the ladder, quickly leaving the darkness behind and ascending into the light.

I can see that I made an error in judgment a year ago. I doubted her, underestimated the strength of her will and heart. I feared that her attempts to  gain an understanding of Jolinar would destroy her.

My fears were unfounded.

There is still the potential for corruption within her; it is within all of us. But I am aware that as long as she is surrounded by her friends, she will not fall victim to power's seduction.

Fin


	11. Power

Still Waters Eleven:

Power

By

Denise

She sits at the computer, her back tired but straight. I watch as she works to correct the damage done by Anubis, alert to her surroundings, and I wonder if she is aware of just how much power she possesses.

I do not speak of her authority at this facility. As with her first promotion, I have witnessed no exhibition of her new rank beyond altering the insignia upon her uniform and the placard bearing her name on the door.

The power of which I speak is one less realized and recognized, but one that is present nonetheless. It is not a power she uses frequently and I never conceived that I would count myself among her victims. I thought I would be stronger, better than the others. I thought my warrior's heart was immune to such entreaties.

I was wrong.

Many that look upon her do not perceive her true standing. They think of her as subordinate, submissive and weak. That is where the beginning of her power lies, the simple fact that her pleasant visage often tricks others into underestimating her and she is forgotten about, dismissed as just a simple, if attractive, female.

I know because I made that error.

When I first looked upon her, I saw little more than a pleasing combination of pale skin and hair and light colored eyes. It was only after many months of working and fighting by her side did I start to realize that my friend is like the great ocean, its true strength and worth hidden far beneath a pleasant looking surface. The same surface that hides a relentless power and immutable force.

I should resent her control, hate the fact that someone, some female, possesses such power over me. I should fight and free myself from her thrall, but I cannot.

One reason I do not fight is that I do not believe that she is aware of her power. Not really. In her heart, perhaps she knows, however in her mind, she underestimates her own worth. I do not think she is aware of how much it pained me to believe that she was dead, how relieved I was to discover her alive, abandoned by Fifth, physically unharmed.

Perhaps that is why I trusted her so blindly. Perhaps I let my emotions cloud my judgment, permitting me to disobey my orders and allow her access to the computers.

I feel the need to inform O'Neill of my weakness, however I am aware that such an act will accomplish little. He too shares my fate. He too has consented to acts and altered his feelings because of her. He too has fallen under her spell, fell victim to her power.

I am aware how much that decision cost him, how much pain it brought upon him. It is not a pain he has ever spoken of, yet it is a pain I can see in his eyes, sense upon his soul. He sacrificed himself to her and he paid the price.

Yet he does not resent that price. He bears her no ill will nor malice. He has made peace with his decision, as I must make peace with mine. I am fortunate; my choice bore no onerous fruit…this time.

I wish I could hate her for her power, I wish I could see evil in her actions, hear deceit in her voice. To do so would make it much easier to free myself from her hold.

However, all I feel is the comforting warmth of friendship, the steadying strength of trust, the edification of mutual respect.

I have a fondness for my human friend that, some may say, weakens my warrior's heart.

In all my years of life, I have witnessed many who lead. I have catered to the whims of a false god, pledged my loyalty to the blasphemous belief of another, risked my entire existence upon the barely understood words of an alien leader.

Yet at no time in my life, have I ever been as bound as I am to her.

She holds a captivating power, one that was not won by tricks or sorcery. One that was not purchased with the blood and toil of others, but a power that is stronger than any I have ever experienced. A power that is contained in a single word.

Please.

Fin


	12. Memories Unending

It's been a very long time since I added to Still Waters, but there was just something about the Sam/Teal'c relationship that appealed to me, especially how things played out in Unending.

Still Waters Twelve: Memories Unending

By

Denise

For fifty years, four months, eight days, twelve hours, twenty-three minutes and thirty-nine seconds we were trapped upon the Odyssey.

No enemy held us against our will. No villain kept us in this thrall. Rather, we were held captive by our own desire to live.

I know that Samantha regrets her decision – one made in the heat of battle and with the desperation of survival.

She knows that – at times – we all resented her choice. We despised our captivity and – whether we meant to or not – we expressed our discontent to her.

I know that her own guilt weighed heavily upon her. And I know that it is a guilt that words could not assuage.

Her guilt became her motivation. It drove her to work and to struggle to find a solution to end our captivity. She rarely spoke of her guilt, keeping it as close as a secret. Over the course of months, I watched it consume her. It was when it threatened to segregate her from us, that I was moved to take action.

_"Pass the bread," Cameron Mitchell asked, holding out his hand. General Landry obliged as I took my seat, not failing to notice the empty chair next to mine._

_"Colonel Carter said that she'd eat in her lab," General Landry said, holding out a bowl of vegetables._

_"Maybe she's close to a breakthrough," Vala Mal Doran said, smiling broadly._

_"If she was close she'd have said so," Cameron Mitchell said, stabbing a vegetable with his fork with enough force to pierce the plate._

_"Considering the way you jumped her ass the last time she was wrong, she probably doesn't want to speak up," Daniel Jackson said, his tone laced with censure._

Of all of us, Cameron Mitchell found our time on the Odyssey most trying. I do not know if it was his youth or his frustration at simply being trapped, but I do know that everyone – including myself – found his ill temper most intolerable.

Only our awareness of our close quarters has kept us from speaking to him in a more direct manner. We hoped, amongst ourselves, that he would realize and alter his own behavior, without our intercession. However, the need to speak to him soon became in-ignorable.

_"I didn't jump her ass," Cameron Mitchell said, defending himself._

_"I don't think she'd exactly allow you to jump her, per se," Vala Mal Doran said. "At least if I'm understanding the vernacular correctly."_

_"You're not," Daniel Jackson said, picking up the last piece of bread from the basket. "He's not jumping her like THAT. But he was a complete ass." He shot a cold glare at Cameron Mitchell._

_"I wasn't—"_

_"You were," General Landry interrupted. "Colonel Carter had about half a second to keep us from getting killed. She made a choice and if she'd have made a different one, we wouldn't be alive right now."_

_"You say that like it's a bad thing."_

_"If you desire to die, I can accommodate you," I said, putting an end his whining. Cameron Mitchell blinked and stared at me, clearly caught off guard. "Do you wish to have your remains preserved or should I merely place them in the air lock?"_

_Daniel Jackson snorted softly and I hoped that he would not laugh. Levity would detract from the sincerity of my offer._

_"Colonel Mitchell, I'd be lying if I said that this was how I wanted to spend my life," General Landry said. "But Colonel Carter made the best decision that she could make at the time. And she's doing everything she can to find a solution. But what she needs right now is our support. And let me give you a hint, bitching about what happened is not being supportive." He did not say the words, but the tone of General Landry's voice clearly indicated that these were not his wishes, but his command._

_"Hear, hear," Vala Mal Doran cheered, glaring at Daniel Jackson when the man kicked her under the table._

_"As a matter of fact, if it makes you feel better, consider it an order. If you want to bitch, you come to me. Those that bitch to the colonel, your next stop is Teal'c and maybe that air lock if he's having a bad day."_

_"I shall deliver Colonel Carter's meal to her," I said, nodding my head at General Landry in gratitude to his words before standing up._

_"Tell her that she WILL join us for dinner tomorrow night," General Landry said. "And every night after that. For twenty-three hours a day, we may each have our own corners of this ship, but we will have this time together."_

_I nodded my assent and left the room, Colonel Carter's plate in my hands. It took me just moments to walk to the room she had claimed as hers.  As I expected, she was not working. Rather, she was sitting at her work bench while Thor's hologram lectured in the background. Her fingers drummed upon the desk's surface and her gaze was unfocused._

_"I have brought you the evening meal," I said, setting the plate before her._

_She stopped drumming her fingers and looked at me for a second before shaking her head. "I'm not hungry."_

_"Regardless, you require sustenance. You should eat." I pushed the plate towards her._

_"Teal'c—"_

_"Eat," I insisted._

_She blinked slowly, unconsciously mimicking Cameron Mitchell's actions of just a few minutes before. She pushed the plate away. "I'm not hungry. And you're not my mother."_

_"Indeed. I am not. However, we are concerned—"_

_"I'm not going to starve myself to death before I fix this," she interrupted, her tone mocking._

_"Of this I have no doubt. My concern is not about you finding a solution, rather whatever emotional turmoil that is resulting in your loss of appetite."_

_She sighed heavily. "Today is Cassie's twenty-first birthday. She wanted to see Hawaii. I had plane tickets and everything."_

_"Did you not say that, outside of this bubble, time does not pass. That a year in this ship is mere seconds outside the bubble."_

_"It's been months, Teal'c. And I'm no closer to a solution than I was the day I started."_

_"You will find a solution."_

_"I have no idea how to fix this. THOR had no idea how to fix this. And if ten thousand years of Asgard history can't find a solution, it's pretty damn arrogant of me to think I can," she ranted. Her voice was tinged with anger and I know more than a little frustration. _

_"You WILL find a solution," I repeated._

_"When? Next week? Next month? Next year? Teal'c, this is no particle generator. This is no missing moon. This is TIME. I can't even begin to comprehend this and…I can't fix it!"_

_"Then why do you persist in your efforts?"_

_She looked down at the table and stared at her hands for a few moments before looking up at me. "Because, I'm afraid that the hope that I'll figure this out is the only thing that's keeping everyone sane," she whispered._

_Moved by the utter desolation in her voice, I stepped close and pulled her into my arms, comforting her the only way that I could._

_And so it began._

Our relationship changed after that day. I began to spend my afternoons with Samantha. Sometimes we talked, other times I merely meditated while she continued to work on a solution. Sometimes I was her audience as she practiced her cello.

Tenacity is both a strength and a curse with her. If it were not for her tenacity, we would each have died years ago, including her. Yet that same tenacity nearly drove her mad.

Despite her words, she still searched for a solution – even though that search broke her heart with each failure.

As the years passed, she grew more and more depressed with every day that the solution eluded her, as she realized that, even if we returned, we would no longer fit in the life we left behind.

She aged. We all aged.

The Asgard medical pods kept us in good health, however it could not defeat the ravages of time.

Our bodies began to fail, slowly and imperceptivity. General Landry – the oldest human – was the first to die. And, I knew, would not be the last.

He was, perhaps, the most fortunate of us. Samantha maintained her vigil until the very end, refusing to leave him even for a moment, lest he die alone. I stood vigil by her side, supporting her in giving the one gift that I knew would be denied to me. A burden that I would eventually assume before I faced my ultimate fate – to die alone.

Our relationship altered even more that night as she cried in my arms. It was then that she discovered my own secret, the feelings that I had kept buried in my heart for so many years.

I loved her.

Not as a brother in arms, not even as a friend, but as a part of my very soul. She completed me as no other woman ever had.

She was my equal, yet sought only to be my companion. She knew when to speak and when to remain silent. She trusted me, not only with her life, but with her secrets as well.

She was my kalash'mate.

I do not know if she ever loved me as much as she simply accepted me as her best chance to not be alone, but I did not care. Nor did I ask.

I was hers and she was mine and I swore to embrace every moment Fate granted me. Little did I realize that Fate wished one final jest.

From the moment that Samantha announced her plan, I knew what my role was to be.

It was logical for me to retain my memories and travel back in time. Although I had aged during our confinement, my tretonin allowed my body to bear that burden with more ease than my human friends. They were frail now and their bodies were vulnerable to the least shock.

But it was not only my concern that drove me to volunteer. In fact, my motives were much more simple and much more selfish.

I would remember.

I would remember holding her in my arms.

I would remember her laugh, her smile.

The feel of her flesh beneath my fingertips and her body wrapped around mine.

We spent a – human – lifetime on board the Odyssey. Fifty years, four months, eight days, twelve hours, twenty-three minutes and thirty-nine seconds.

Often it felt that our captivity was truly a life sentence, commuted only by death.

Yet, I cherish every moment, every memory. For they are as precious as life, as irreplaceable as a star, and all I shall ever have.

Fin


End file.
